California Fever

Ten Zen Seconds

I think Eric Maisel's Ten Zen Seconds might be my new favorite thing...even though I haven't tried it yet.  Maisel is a prolific author and considered by many to be the Granddaddy of creativity coaching.  I've never read any of his books, but his most recent one sounds like a gem.  I discovered it via a comment Catherine left at Poetry Thursday in Liz Elayne's post here.  In that post, Liz offers a gentle reminder on how we can let go of self-judgment.  (Although, to be honest, I'd say I've probably spent more time lately sitting in judgment of others.  But I think I'm ready to hang up my robe, hand over my gavel and walk away from the bench...)

Catherine interviewed Maisel as part of his recent blog tour and you can read the interview here.

In that interview, Maisel says Ten Zen Seconds is:

"...a very simple but powerful technique for reducing your stress, getting yourself centered, and reminding yourself about how you want to live your life."

"You use a deep breath, five seconds on the inhale and five seconds on the exhale, as a container for important thoughts that aim you in the right direction in life..."

He's developed what he calls 12 "incantations," and in the blog interview he lists them divided by inhale and exhale.  You know how you read or come across something and it seems so simple that you start thinking it can't possibly work--it's too easy!  I suspect a lot of people might have the same initial reaction to Ten Zen Seconds.  Read some of the reviews here.  It sounds from those reviews like this simple little technique might lead to big shifts. 

"...reminding yourself about how you want to live your life."  And the idea of using our breath as a "container for important thoughts that aim you in the right direction in life."  If ever I needed a reminders about mindful breathing and right direction, it's lately.  I'm going give Ten Zen Seconds a try.

beauty

After posting so diligently during my "37 Days Challenge," I've felt like a bit of a slacker lately.  I'm just trying to get through this week...and get to my nice long Winter break (17 days).

This morning I went to stock.xchng and searched for "beauty."  I had no idea what I was looking for, or even if I'd know it when I saw it.  But there's been so much drama and tension at work--and so much personal stress (financial and otherwise) that I'm craving beauty.  None of the photos in the search result was really inspiring me...until I saw these elephants.  I love that the person who took this photo in Zimbabwe tagged it "beauty"...because they are beautiful, aren't they?

There's a large shrub in the front of our school that's been shaped into an elephant.  It's not our mascot (the eagle is) but it's apparently been there for years.  I love the idea that someone on the district's maintenance crew must have had a thing for elephants and decided he wanted to create one.  I'll have to take a picture of it to show you.

I just randomly opened Caroline Myss' Invisible Acts of Power - Personal Choices that Create Miracles and saw this:  "Perhaps the greatest act of service you can perform is the nuturing of your own spiritual path."  Always a good reminder, especially when one is feeling worn out and depleted.  Because when we start to feel worn out and worn down, the last thing we want to do is give even more--especially, oddly, even to ourselves.

So here's my advice to myself today (and feel free to steal it for yourself):  Do something kind for yourself.  Nurture yourself.  Allow yourself to see beauty in unexpected places.  Allow yourself to create something magical from something unexpected.

And now, it's time for a candlelit shower...

Have a good one.

P.S.  And don't forget to go by Sam's to wish her a very HAPPY BIRTHDAY!  :)

The Secret to You

Day 33

It's going to look like I've posted twice today, but that's because by the time I got Tuesday's post up, it was after midnight.  That post links to a post at Patti's blog that will knock your socks off.  Please check it out.

I'm going to veer off-prompt again, because Patry's list has inspired me.  Check out her 10 Ways Blogging Will Change Your Life post.  I think it's an excellent list, because she's come up with some universal feelings and values shared by so many bloggers.  She's asked commenters to add their own #11.  Here's mine:

#11 - If you keep at blogging for years--if you forge through the cyclical ups and down that can beset any blogger--one day you might have a revelation.  Maybe you're someone who's felt like you've spent decades mining for your authenticity.  Maybe you've read lots of self-help books, attended workshops and retreats, tried therapy, used all sorts of healing techniques, partaken of body work, used more 'tools' than you could shake a stick at to try to find that vein--that passion artery that once you've located it you were just sure would lend a life force to your life.  Maybe you're someone who's always chafed at labels and having others try to fit you inside a neat, little box.  Maybe you've grown convinced that you'll never find your true passion in life because you love to do so many different things, how could you possibly pick just one?  Maybe your love of travel and intense change-craving leads you to a locale far from friends and family.  Maybe you find yourself surrounded by great beauty, but feel dry and desolate on the inside as a result of the isolation.  Maybe one day, around the time of the Iraq invasion, you read online about something called a blog.  It's written by a (then CNN) war correspondent.  You don't really understand what a blog is, except that the stories seem more personal than the video reports you see him give on CNN.  You read his blog for awhile, but after awhile you stop reading it and forget about that whole blog business. About six months later, you stumble upon a news article about something called blogging.  It says that anyone can blog, that anyone can do blogging and be a blogger.  It mentions a free software called Blogger.  It's September 1, 2003, and as you're sprawled on your back on the love seat, with your feet dangling over the arm, and the tiny laptop table next to you as you surf around online with your right hand, you announce to your sweetheart across the room, "I think I'll start a blog."  Maybe you have no idea what you'll blog about--all you know is that after three years of your isolated life, you've grown weary of sending periodic update emails to a distribution list of family and friends.  Maybe if you start a blog, the onus will be on them to read it, instead of on you to send it.  So you go to Blogger and sure enough, it's easy as pie to make a blog, so you do.  But what you couldn't have known that day is what a surreptitiously transformative tool blogging will turn out to be for you.  Along the way you'll discover many other blogs, and one day you'll screw up your courage enough to leave a comment on a few of them (even though you're just sure they all know each other and will wonder who this stranger is in their midst).  And then you manage to enable comments on your own blog (after months of posting) and lo and behold, other bloggers will begin leaving comments for you.  And they'll come from people all over the world.  Blogging will begin to feel to you like a 21st century version of ham radio.  You'll begin to establish connections with fellow bloggers to the point where holiday cards might be exchanged, or even gifts.  Birthdays will be remembered.  Maybe you'll receive baby announcements in the mail.  And on a few occasions, you might even make the leap to speaking to another blogger on the phone.  What you'll discover along the way is that that place they call the blogosphere is full of people who are willing to embrace you with acceptance and support and even love, no questions asked.  It will blow you away to realize that you don't have to be or do anything for them to act that way.  It will seem to be enough that you're just who you are, whatever that is.  And as much as that knocks you out, you'll be even more amazed when it dawns on you one day that you feel the same way about them.  You don't care what they look like or what work they do or where they live or what their relationship or family status is.  You'll just like them for the sense of who they seem to be on their blog. And you'll begin to rejoice in the beauty of blogging and its innate ability to flatten hierarchies.  Your blogging friendships will supercede appearance and race and culture and financial status and professional definition.  You'll discover that you've begun to care about these people.  You'll begin to think (or worry) about them during your 'real' life, when you're away from your laptop.  The relationships you've established with some of your blogger friends will begin to redefine friendship for you.  Because it will be through their support and encouragement and unconditional love that you'll begin to open up a bit, and only then will you realize how very, very closed you've been.  Maybe you'll realize that you've been seeking your tribe, your community, and one day you'll almost weep with the realization that you may have finally found it.  Along the way you'll start several blogs and express many interests and passions.  And you'll come to know, really know, that blogging is a gift in your life, because it can leap across so many passion categories for you--writing and travel and culture and creative expression and publishing and humanitarian desires.  And that's when that revelation will hit you like a lightning bolt when you least expect it.  You've been swinging that pickax for so many decades that you feel like you can barely lift it.  You've been digging and digging, hoping one day to strike authenticity gold.  And that's when it hits you--you've already found it.  It just doesn't look like you thought it would all those years you were searching for it.  It's right here, and you're right in it.  You just didn't realize it.  Authentic means that which is "known to be true."  All this time you thought you had to do one thing to find it.  What you hadn't expected is that it would be more about unveiling your truth, and that blogging would give you the perfect vehicle to do that.  And it will teach you that being authentic isn't a goal, it's a journey.

Day 13

When my mother moved from Mt. Shasta (Northern California) to N. Las Vegas a year ago, she did so with a huge truck full of stuff.  But prior to her move in mid-November '05, she spent a good month with two (almost daily) workers she'd hired to help her sort through her stuff.  Those of you who were reading here then will remember that I spent my last Veteran's Day weekend in Mt. Shasta helping her finish that job in preparation for arrival of the movers.  The amount of STUFF I found still be sorted through when I arrived was staggering, especially in light of the fact that there'd been three of them doing that for a whole month prior to that.  One of those workers helped us that last weekend, and although she seemed like a nice person, I could tell when I arrived that her patience with my mother had expired.  As a result, I think she might have taken a bit of advantage of my mother's vision disability to make some independent decisions about what to keep and what to toss.  Because although my mother sold, gave away and tossed many books, I spotted a few in the toss pile that I don't think she would have thrown away.  So I rescued a handful of old volumes.  One of those is a 1945 illustrated edition of Andersen's Fairy Tales, a book I've never read.  In fact, I hadn't even cracked it open until tonight.  When my mother stayed with us over my Winter break last year, I showed her the books I'd rescued for her, assuming she'd want them.  (It had been too stressful and emotional of a time to address that right before the movers came--I feared it would open a whole can of worms and we might end up going through the entire huge dumpster that was filled to overflowing.)  She thanked me for saving them, but told me to just hang onto them.  I doubt that she's read them; she probably picked them up because they seemed like collectibles.

Page 37 of Andersen's Fairy Tales lands in the story, "The Fir Tree."  The tree wonders why other trees around him are being cut down and carted away.  The sparrows report that they've seen the trees through windows of homes and that, "They are dressed up in the most splendid manner."  The fir tree is fraught with longing, "I wonder whether anything so brilliant will ever happen to me," thought the fir tree.  He's urged to enjoy his life right where he is:  "Rejoice with us," said the air and the sunlight.  "Enjoy thine own bright life in the fresh air."

And that's exactly what I plan to do over the next few days.  There's no school on Friday, and I may take Monday off, too.  I emailed the district office yesterday to get current balances for all of my leave.  I have almost 18 days worth of sick and personal leave stored up (up to six of those can be used as personal leave.  I used one in September to attend the family wedding.)  My salary is low, but we get a lot of leave:  paid holidays, vacation (to be used for school breaks and still have some left over), sick and personal leave, and two days each year for "family illness." Know how many sick days I took last school year?  Zero.  They carry over from year to year, but I don't benefit from having them banked unless I leave the job and get paid for them, so I might as well use a few, don't you think?  Everyone else utilizes their sick leave--why should I be the one who never misses a day of work?

Although this was a shortened work week, it was a busy one and I worked several extra hours.  We had parent meetings on Monday and Tuesday nights, and I stayed an extra hour yesterday to have a serious discussion with a couple of colleagues after work before rushing home to get ready for my date with Kayla.  I think I need to just rejoice in my own bright life for a bit.

I went to the food co-op this evening and filled our water bottles, and picked up some organic, free trade Guatamalan coffee beans from the Pachamama Coffee Co-Op (I can't get that farmer-owned co-op site to come up to link to it here) and Irish oatmeal.  The weather has turned brisk, and I plan to spend my Friday holiday morning sitting in bed and reading my newspapers, with a tray of good coffee and oatmeal by my side.  Then maybe I'll take the air and sunlight's words of advice to heart and venture out for a walk or bike ride.  I urge you to take Hans Christian Andersen's words to heart, too:  "Rejoice...Enjoy thine own bright life in the fresh air."

37 Days of the 37th Page for 37 Days Challenge

[And I won't forget why I've been given a holiday from work on Friday (even though the actual holiday falls on Saturday).  My grandfather was a veteran of WWI.  Although I vehemently oppose the war in Iraq, I have enormous respect and gratitude for the members of our military who offer up their lives every single day.]

changed

I'm going to let the horses do the talking today.  Go to Daryl's site and click NOW PLAYING.

To support El Dustberry, go here.

Patti at 37 Days is doing a retreat in November via her Circle Project work.  You can read about it here.  I particularly loved this line in describing their work:  "Our teaching is oriented more toward learning (a process that leaves us changed) than toward problem-solving (a process focused on changing our surroundings)."

I'd say the horses at El Dustberry are very good at assisting people in doing the former.

May you be feel compelled today to set down your problem-solving skills in order to allow yourself to be changed.

excuses

Stop making excuses.  (I'm speaking to myself.)

declaration of independence

I'd already put up three(!) posts here this morning and was getting ready to step away from the computer.  But before I did that, I stopped by Jill's...and found this.  Watch it--you won't be disappointed.  It came from this woman, and I can't wait to take a look around her site.

hard laughter

Earlier tonight, Jeffrey was flipping channels while I was on the computer.  He stumbled upon a comedy special on HBO and started watching.  Soon he was laughing pretty hard, so I began paying attention to what the comic was saying.  Before long we were both laughing so hard that almost no sound was being emitted by either us--except the gasping for breath that typically follows a super-hard laugh and that "whooooo" that's almost universally said as tears are wiped away.  We didn't think to check the "info" button on the remote until the credits rolled to find out who we were watching.  It was Bill Burr, and he did a long bit about going up to Harlem to visit his black girlfriend in the middle of the night that was hilarious.  (You had to be there.) 

Is that not one of the absolute best feelings in the world?  To laugh so hard that you're doubled over, unable to speak, with tears streaming down your face?  Why is that?  Why is that such an absolutely glorious release for us?  Is it the utter lack of control that overtakes us?  Is it a chemical high--is there something that goes coursing through our bloodstream?  Is it the physical movement--the body being overcome by the humor equivalent of heaving, wracking sobs?  I once read that the French refer to a sneeze as "le petit mort"--a small death.  I can see that.  It would seem that laughter for us is "une peue de vie"--a little life--for surely it infuses us with a dose of our most joyful essence.  What power those moments have.  We can be feeling down or irritated or anxious...and then suddenly something will strike us as so funny that we're laughing with abandon.  We haven't pondered it beforehand--we haven't made a decision to laugh--we're just doing it.  And we always feel so much better afterwards.

I'm not an easy laugh.  I adore humor and given the opportunity, will always seek the funny--in books, movies, friendships.  I love to make people laugh and I can be pretty good at it.  But laughter has never come easily for me.  I appreciate the humor in things and I can feel amused.  But to laugh out loud?  Doesn't happen all that often for me.  So when it does, it feels like a huge gift.  It's why I keep a Bill Bryson book on my bedside table and only occasionally savor a passage of it.  I hate to finish his books because he's one of the few authors who can make me laugh.  Bryson and Sedaris, without fail.  It's why I worship at the altar of Albert Brooks--he just does it for me.  (Well, except for "The Muse."  Sharon Stone is not funny.)  And then there are the obvious box-office kings who seem to fall into the "you either love or hate them" camp--Jim Carrey, Ben Stiller.  We happen to find both of them funny.  I'm typically not that moved by physical humor, but there's just something about those two that cracks me up.  And although I appreciate what Dave Chappelle says with his humor on "Chappelle's Show," I've never laughed out loud watching it.  Yet Chappelle was freakin' hilarious in concert when we saw him here in Davis last Fall.  We were "Seinfeld" fans, but I never once laughed at one of Jerry's stand-up bits that opened the shows.  In fact I thought they were really lame.  But I saw him in concert once, at least 15 years ago, and he killed.  We've grown to be big fans of "Curb Your Enthusiasm."  Jeffrey used to find Larry David annoying--now he finds him funny.  I used to hit the comedy clubs a lot when I lived in San Francisco.  Robin Williams once showed up at a show in a tiny club in the Haight.  He started riffing with Michael McShane, and Williams was funny...but McShane was funnier.  (You might know him as the psychiatrist who keels over dead during his session with Ron Livingston in "Office Space.")  And that's sometimes the best part, isn't it?  Finding the funny in the unexpected--to be surprised by it.  We didn't see it coming.

Some espouse laughing meditation--laughter as practice.  (Here's one.)  People.  Have you ever tried that?  It's hard--especially if, like me, you don't laugh easily.  I've tried it, and never felt like a bigger dork.  And I'm talking about in the privacy of my home when I'm there by myself.  If I acted for a living, I'd have no problem crying on cue, but laughing on cue?  I'd be a goner.  And there's no laughing equivalent of the fake tears actors sometimes use--you just have to do it.  This week I'm going to try to do it a little more.  I'm going to spend a little more time giving myself over to the funny.  Not just the witty and snarky--I'm always drawn to that--but the silly.  The kinds of moments like the one I had with Ciara weekend before last.  We were sitting at the kitchen table playing poker (What?  Every 8-year-old needs to have her poker game in shape.) and I was relating a tale from my childhood.  It's a dorky story, but for some reason it got hold of me and I started laughing...and couldn't stop.  Until Ciara finally said, "Okay.  Now you're scaring me." in her best 3rd grader snark voice.  She was giving me that "It's not that funny" look.  Oh, but in that moment, it was...and I was so grateful for it.

P.S.  I'd love to hear in the comments what tickles and delights you.

37 Days Challenge

perceptions

The secret cause of suffering is unreality...Reality is perception, and the suffering person gets trapped by negative perceptions of his own creation.  Perception keeps the pain under control, not by reducing it but by sealing out even greater pain.  This twist is the one most people find hard to understand.  The body discharges pain automatically, yet the mind can override that instinct by turning the pain into something "good," in the sense that it's better than other, even worse possibilities.  Inner confusion and conflict are why the mind has such a hard time healing itself, despite all the power it holds.  The power has been turned against itself, and thus perception, which could end suffering in an instant, locks the door instead...Perceptions are fluid unless we seal them in place.  The self is like a constantly shifting system that incorporates the new into the old at every moment.  If you constantly obsess over old perceptions, however, they become reinforced with each repetition.

Reality is whatever you identify with.

~Deepak Choprah, The Book of Secrets

I read these passages last night, sitting in bed.  And I read them on the heels of an insight I'd just had about myself (and something I shared earlier with Kat as it related to the AW group).  I was telling Jeffrey how very excited I am to be participating in the Blogging the Artist's Way group.  I had just gone by Kat's site again and was happy to see people were still signing on to join the group.  And here's what I realized about myself:  I'm not nearly as selfish as I perceive myself to be. 

I see myself as a very selfish person.  I always have.  But it dawned on me last night that I wasn't just excited about ME doing the AW group--I was excited about getting the word out to as many people as possible so EVERYONE who wanted to could do it with us.  That's why I did two posts about it, and why I've sent emails to people who might not have seen those posts.  And it dawned on me that if I were truly the hideously selfish wench I have believed myself to be, then I wouldn't have done those things.  I would have signed on myself and kept mum about it...and hoped not too many people stumbled upon Kat's posts about it. 

Was there a time in my life when I was very selfish?  Yes.  But that's an old version of me.  That's the drinking Marilyn.  Selfishness grows and mutates in an environment of fear and pettiness and insecurity, and I still experience all of those kinds of feelings at times.  But I'm not nearly as selfish as I've painted myself out to be. 

Here's how this realization comes into play as it directly relates to Blogging The Artist's Way.  I think I'm great at being a cheerleader for other people, and have been for decades.  Got a dream you want to explore?  I'll do anything I can to help you.  In fact, I'm so good at it, that often I've looked around and thought, "Wait a minute, I just helped her make her dream come true...what about mine?"  I wrote a post last night on the AW blog (link at top of right sidebar) about having a sacred circle, about us being believing mirrors for each other.  And I mean that in the most heartfelt way.  If you need a mirror, I will be there for you.  Here's the thing though:  This time around, I'm also going to be there for myself.  I'm going to remind myself daily that my 'job' is not just to cheer you on, but first and foremost to cheer myself on.  Somewhere along the way, I got the message that that was a bad thing to do.  Maybe it came from the nuns, I don't know, but somewhere along the line I bought into the belief that wanting things for myself was a bad thing to want.  That if I were truly a 'good' person, I'd only want good things for other people.  That belief got all mixed up with the one that told me only other people got to have their dreams come true.  (And I could go into all the roots of that one, but it's not necessary.)  I cooked up a goofy melange of undeserving goo and have been trying to unstick myself from it ever since.  Here's where it stops.

See, the damn AW's working already...and we haven't even started Week 1... 

What self-perception have you clung to that's no longer true?